


Soldier’s Requiem (for a Fallen Enemy)

by Theonenamedafterahat



Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Angst, Canonical Character Death, Gen, I mean it's kinda pre-slash, M/M, Poetry, is it pre-slash is one of them is dead?, pre-s2, this fic deals with Treville's feelings about Richelieu's death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-15
Updated: 2016-03-15
Packaged: 2018-05-26 22:01:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 374
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6257566
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Theonenamedafterahat/pseuds/Theonenamedafterahat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>His words were so fast and wild when the rest was still,<br/>and sometimes he smiled at the corner of his eyes,<br/>all bright and sharp and restless.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Soldier’s Requiem (for a Fallen Enemy)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [be_cum](https://archiveofourown.org/users/be_cum/gifts), [grabmotte](https://archiveofourown.org/users/grabmotte/gifts).



> For be_cum and grabmotte because they write beautiful fic and I haven't written them anything yet.

_"Monster” is derived from the Latin noun monstrum, “divine portent,” itself formed on the root of the verb monere, “to warn.” It came to refer to living things of anomalous shape or structure, or to fabulous creatures like the sphinx who were composed of strikingly incongruous parts, because the ancients considered the appearance of such beings to be a sign of some impending supernatural event. Monsters, like angels, functioned as messengers and heralds of the extraordinary. They served to announce impending revelation, saying, in effect, “Pay attention; something of profound importance is happening.” — My Words to Victor Frankenstein: by Susan Stryker_

* * *

I, a man, dwelleth in the secret space,

with lacklight and want in the afterdark,

under the sky dull and watched. God knows, 

‘twere royal blue, and starred, when my enemy 

passed from the shadow. Such is the fate 

of the wicked, and the strong, and the changed. 

My enemy was  _monere_ ,  _monstrum_ , monster. 

 

I did not see him leave, midst the great grey Parisian fog, 

nor hastened his departure. He was my enemy; 

the darkling side of my soul. I loathed him not - 

in that cruel and gorgeous and dying moment

I saw in him something fresh and growing, and remembered how 

in days past and gone he opened his veins 

so that cities might last the night. 

 

And the force of his rhetoric settled in the space 

between church-roof bones, grave-grim stare translating 

by pounding muscles and threading veins; 

there to name and choose and see and keep. 

His words were so fast and wild when the rest was still, 

and sometimes he smiled at the corner of his eyes, 

all bright and sharp and restless. 

  

But all the while, his arts were practiced and deadly 

and dark, and strange as the flame.

Reverence burned and silence killed 

and little secrets held him close at night  

and sang their little songs, scabrous 

and clamouring and silver.  

O my enemy. The city lives and reigns 

and its best days are past, and drifting away 

on tides of cotton, brackish and red. 

 

_"invocabit me et exaudiam eum_

_cum ipso ero in tribulatione eruam_

_eum et glorificabo."_

"As it was, and ever shall be, 

and til we meet again, 

Amen, Richelieu, 

I agree, Amen." 

**Author's Note:**

> I'm...sorry? 
> 
> Seriously though, I am. Tonnes of actual fic I could be writing, and what do I spend my time on? Pretentious poetry. I love the language though...


End file.
